


Just In Your Wildest Dreams

by gaialux



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-16 22:43:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4642785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/pseuds/gaialux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bela hits a bar in Ohio.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just In Your Wildest Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anaraine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaraine/gifts).



> Promised back in December/January *g* I finally have this written! I hope you enjoy these lovely rarepair ladies.

After Bela sells her soul to a demon, she believes that's the worst thing that could ever happen to her. At the age of ten, there is a strange degree of optimism in doing so; things can only go up, and there's so much time for that to happen.

But -- and there is  _always_ a but -- she runs into the Winchesters and everything that goes with them.

It's okay. Bela is smart and she knows how to protect herself. Taking Dean's winnings help get her back on even, at least, even if her customer is just as likely to put out a hit on her. She decides to lay low for a while and, purely by chance, finds herself in a small Ohio town.

Nobody will think to search for her here.

 

* * *

 

When hitting a new town, the first place to check out is always a bar. Watering hole for hunters. Where they can drink away their guilt and loss. Pathetic, really. They acted as though they were tough outer shells with no flesh and blood like the rest of humanity. Most were sad, sad children who never grew past three year old toddlers at the stage of a temper tantrum.

Bela sits by the bar and watches as one guy with a trucker cap and overalls scribbles onto a manila folder. " _Fuck,_ " he's murmuring. " _Fuck, fuck, fuck."_ Bela's tempted to find out what ghost or ghoulie he's tracking down today -- offer him a weapon or talisman that has a vague chance of working -- but decides against it. She's laying low; getting on the bad side of husky hunter isn't part of that.

"So what can I get you?"

Bela looks up. The bartender is tossing a look over her shoulder as she reaches up on tip-toes to place away more wine glasses.

"I make a mean hurricane."

"That," Bela answers. Fruity rum was always amongst her favourites. "Always have to try the bar specialities."

The woman turns and smiles before busying herself with Bela's drink. She's obviously been doing this for a while -- deft fingers maybe showing off just that little bit as she lifts the mixers high and winks in the process

"Here you are," she says, sticking a wedge of orange on the side and finishing it all off with an obnoxiously green straw. "I'm Casey. Haven't seen you around here before."

"I'm just passing through," Bela says. She takes a sip of the drink and that mixture of sweet fruitiness manages to, at the very least, give her mind some rest from everything she's running from.

"Good?" Casey asks with a smile that isn't quite a smile, not quite a smirk.

"Very," Bela responds. There should be some additional quip in there, but sleep deprivation and threat-of-life makes her tongue heavier than usual. She downs more of the drink and tries to drown herself in the taste of rum and citrus.

"I'll get you another on the house," Casey says. "Looks like you need it."

Bela doesn't try to argue. She could pay for every drink in this bar and then some, but Casey seems to want the altruistic opportunity. Another hurricane and a shot of rum for Casey herself. Drinking on the job -- this is Bela's kind of woman.

She looks around again, now with anxiety tempered. Even if one of these hunters is connected to the Winchesters and relays Bela's whereabouts back to them, Bela could be gone in a matter of minutes. Nothing ties her here. Nothing ties her anywhere -- even her apartment in New York is looked after on a year round basis whether she returns or not.

"So what brings you to Waynesville?" Casey asks as she swipes a cloth along the mahogany wood bar top. "Planning to go on any ghost tours?"

Alcohol has loosened Bela's tongue enough that she can laugh. "I've seen enough of those for a lifetime."

Casey's brows knot together but she says nothing. Continues to twist circles with her cloth until the bar is glistening and, without Bela ever noticing, time has passed with patrons up and leaving.

Soon it's only Bela, Casey, and one lone straggler who swaggers at the pool table with eyes half-lidded and dark.

"That's just Randy," Casey says. She points at the man Bela had spotted. "Stays here some nights -- I haven't got the back strength to throw him out."

As Bela watches, Randy slides further down onto the table until faint snores float through the bar. She turns back to Casey. "And he doesn't take anything?"

"He's passed out until I come in at nine," Casey says. "You want to get out of here?"

There is definitely more in those words than simply closing up shop and heading their separate ways. Even if it did seem like a whirlwind of walking in, drinking, and now Bela getting up off her seat and following Casey outside. Hours have passed -- she spies on the clock by the door -- but it doesn't feel anywhere near. Casey looks back over her should with another of those smirk-smiles and Bela is hooked.

It's raining outside. Cold, windy rushes she's surprised couldn't be heard from inside the bar. Bela wraps her jacket tighter around herself and keeps an eye on Casey's back -- it's hard to see even two feet ahead.

But before she's aware of it, Bela is being pushed up against the cold bricks of the bar. Water droplets soak through her thin shirt and Casey's eyes are close, so close. Her breath is warm against the frigid air and, when she presses her lips against Bela's, the whole world goes translucent and hot. Casey wraps a hand in Bela's hair and drags her closer until every part of them is touching. Rain is soaking down Bela's shirt but she doesn't care -- hardly notices -- just wants more of Casey hot and right against her.

It ends too soon. Casey pulling back with a glint in her eye and Bela struggling to keep the small amount of breath remaining in her lungs.

"So," Casey says. She tugs Bela closer by the collar of her shirt. "My place?"


End file.
